


Everything's better with a little cream on top

by troubleseeker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Plug, Baked Goods, Bondage, Bottom Kevin, Enemas, Fear, Food, Force-Feeding, Forced Orgasm, Grace tentacles, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Hippies, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgy, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Summoning, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, Top Gabriel, Top Loki, Touching, Tube Feeding, belly bulge, bloated, but not conventional, but then weird ones, gabriel in disguise, overfed, pumping a stomach (mentioned), really eating ass, so much food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: Kevin gets kidnapped by a group of hipster/hippie/... eco farmers who need some godly blessings to get their pop-up farm to function. Kevin is the handpicked human sacrifice for the great Nordic God ... Loki! They've researched accordingly, and bring their victim a full bake sale of food and drinks (that may or may not be spiked) to ingest in several ways. Kevin is not pleased. 'Loki' however, is elated.





	Everything's better with a little cream on top

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Omgbubblesomg ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg) and [AnOddSock ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock) for beta-reading and spurring on this madness. (blame both of them, not me)
> 
> If I missed a tag (or two) please tell me!

Kevin struggled, trying his very best to wriggle out of the surprisingly soft cuffs. Not that there was any sort of give within that near gentle hold. He could yank his arms and legs all he wanted. It didn’t hurt.

Nothing had hurt, actually.

The last thing Kevin remembered was sipping on a smoothie. He’d had a good run, and there’d been a fancy looking juice cart.

And then he’d woken up on the altar.

At least he thought it was an altar. It was in the middle of what looked like a barn rather than a church. But it was raised up to what he thought was altar height. 

Kevin hadn’t seen a lot of altars in his lifetime. Most of them either in churches, or stupid movies. The creepy cast iron candle holders set in a circle around him looked standard fare horror flick, and clashed aggressively with the rest of the decor. The neat circle of plain plastic lawn chairs all around him was unexpectedly mundane. But then again, he’d found that every supernatural phenomenon was just as often banal as it was terrifying.

It seemed that human sacrifices were a spectator sport.

Kevin didn’t doubt he was to be sacrificed. Why else would they tie him to a raised altar like a starfish if not to slit his throat in front of a chanting crowd?

What wasn’t standard indie movie fare, were the plush blankets draped over the platform, and the fact that he wasn’t lying completely flat. Instead, he was reclining on a pile of blankets and pillows; upper body supported while his legs lay flat. Most altars were just decorated with some fancy looking cloth and that was it. In those virgin sacrifice movies they were just bare stone. 

Kevin doubted witches or cult members bothered to pad the place they slit throats. Few human sacrifices had luxuries in their last moments.

Curling his neck as far as he could, Kevin tried to see if there were any markers that would help him identify the deity he was to be food for. But there didn’t seem to be any clear symbols. Except maybe an excessive amount of potted plants scattered around the barn. It made it look a bit like a fake forest. Or maybe a garden store. 

Were farmers trying to get their plants to grow faster?

Harvest deities would explain why he was being treated nicer. Dean had told him a story about the scarecrow he’d almost been fed to.

He was still fruitlessly testing the bindings when the barn doors creaked open, and a large group of people started pouring into the cleared space. They were a pretty mismatched group. Different skin tones and weird hair colours milling around, but no one seemed to be over the age of thirty.

Kevin got a good look at each of them as they walked up to the altar and placed down what looked to be the makings of a bake sale. There were tarts and cookies. Cookie Bars and cupcakes. Whole cakes dripping with icing and sauces. Pitchers of tea and lemonade. Sweets, and candies. 

The only consensus seemed to be that everything contained sugar. Lots of it.

It was only when one guy put down a glass ovenproof dish of tiramisu, that Kevin recognised who he was dealing with. Vintage olive green shirt, tweed pants, suspenders, and a fucking moustache that curled upwards; the guy who’d mixed his smoothie, and explained in detail that all the fruits had been locally and ecologically grown in his commune slash pop-up enterprise.

No one seemed to care that he was silently glaring at them, but one woman with dreadlocks that near brushed the floor seemed mildly offended that he jerked his head back when she tried to pet his hair.

As far as Kevin knew, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment but lie back and wait for someone to either explain, or for some other signs to magically appeared. So he silently observed the stream of people bringing more and more baked goods. 

Sugar cookies. Chocolate cupcakes. An apple pie. A pecan pie. More chocolate chip cookies. Kevin lost track.

When the entire group had placed down the food and found a seat, the man who’d served him his presumably drugged smoothie stood up. Walking around the food, he raised his arms as if in prayer.

“Welcome everyone. We’re gathered here today to incur favour from Gods that existed thousands of years before the Christian faith repurposed them for their own gain. Easter Sunday is a festival and holiday celebrated by millions of gullible people around the world to supposedly honour the resurrection of Jesus from death, three days after his crucifixion at Calvary. It is also the day that innocent indoctrinated children excitedly wait for the Easter bunny to arrive and deliver their treats of chocolate eggs. These rituals and symbols of fertility have been hijacked by the Christian powers to stop us from communicating with actual powerful beings. Beings who could actually answer our prayers! They want us weak!”

Kevin gave up on listening when the man continued to lecture the crowd on the origins of Easter. Dropping names like Inanna, Aphrodite, Venus, and Ostara regularly. His monotonous voice droning on, and on, and miraculously everyone seemed to be paying attention to the rant. Besides a basic history lesson that jumped from faith to faith, and timeline to timeline like a hyperactive bunny, the guy wasn’t saying anything specific. No one deity stood out from the rest. Just one female goddess after the other.

He only stopped rolling his eyes to lift his head again when the dreadlocked woman stood up to take over the lecture. She had to lift the massive shaggy hairstyle over her shoulder to stop it from dipping into a heavily frosted cake.

“Everyone here has worked too hard for this to fail. The government refuses to help small businesses like ours. They pander to giant corporations and destroy the earth while they do so!” There was an assenting murmur from the crowd. “While we struggle to make our organic, ecological pop-up commune farm store work, they approve the use of more and more harmful plastic.”

Kevin let his head drop back down onto to blankets. More rants. No information he could use. He wriggled his wrists. Still stuck.

Couldn’t they have done the long ass rants while he was still drugged?

“The sacrifice was chosen carefully.”

Kevin froze. After gushing on and on about their farm, and the need for legalizing drugs, finally something interesting.

“The pagan sacrifices were always young, and probably good looking.”

Ok. So nothing he could protest there.

“Healthy.”

_ Never buying a smoothie again if I survive this. _

“The government has forced us to take these extreme measures, but we will not hesitate. This man will become the vessel of our offerings to the gods.”

She turned to face Kevin.

“For this, we thank you.”

He felt his eyes grow wide.

“Thank me? Let me go!”

She kept smiling, laying a kind hand on his jerking thigh. Was she high?

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. But know that your sacrifice is for the greater good, and let that knowledge fill your heart with joy.”

“Fuck you!”

“We’ve kept you as comfortable as possible. We wish you no ill. Your help is greatly appreciated by our community. Please do not fight what is right.”

She picked up a slice of chocolate cake set near her feet, and offered the moist looking thing to him.

“Eat.”

“Um. No offence. But no.”

She pushed closer, pressing the fragrant dessert against his lips.

“I made it myself. Eat.”

When he continued to refuse, turning his head away as far as he could, she took a small bite herself.

“See. It’s safe. Eat.”

So not poisoned. Maybe they’d let him go if he cooperated.

Kevin opened his mouth to take a bite. The woman smiled, and pushed the cake passed his lips. It was every bit as decadent and rich as it looked.

“It tastes good, doesn’t it? The chocolate is fair trade. Everything organic.”

_ Yeah, that made all of this better. _

Kevin nodded, chewing and swallowing the treat. Fully expecting them to go on and do something else now. Except, the woman sitting closest to him stood up and picked up a plate of sugar cookies and held one out for him; smiling.

Looking around, everyone else was just watching him. Eagerly waiting to see if he ate more. Swallowing the last of the cake, he took a bite of the cookie.

It was overly sweet, but not too bad. The woman smiled at him as he chewed, but refused to leave until he’d eaten two entire cookies, only to be replaced by a young man wearing a vintage jacket and a large chunk of brownie hiding his own goateed smile.

Once he’d taken the first bite, it just became easier. Cakes, cookies, chocolate truffles … Just more and more sweets to swallow down.

After a while, Kevin felt himself lean forward eagerly when someone picked up a pitcher of tea or lemonade. Happy to have something to wash it all down with.

Half an hour in, he felt warm. Not too warm. Just pleasantly cosy, where he hadn’t been before. The never ending line of sweets more vibrant and inviting.

It took him way too long, and an entire slice of funfetti birthday cake to figure out there’d been weed in something – no clue which one – he’d eaten. Maybe everything was drugged. There was no way to know for sure.

Suddenly scared, he stopped accepting food. Much to the crowd’s dismay.

They tried to coax him out of his hazy shell. Offering chocolate milk, “With real chocolate, and vanilla bean!” and dipped strawberries, “Fresh from the field!”. But Kevin just shook his head, tugging weakly at the cuffs. How much had he already eaten? How long did a high like that last?

He’d smoked weed like once.

“You drugged me!”

“Don’t fight it!”

The first guy - the one who’d chosen and sedated him - surged forward, moustache quivering in anger, as he pried at his jaw with surprising strength.

The second Kevin unclenched his teeth to take the strain off of his jaw muscles, more cake was pushed in.

“Eat!”

The crowd started chanting, and a random hand slapped over his mouth when he made to spit out the latest mouthful. Another hand pinched his nose shut. He’d have to swallow before he could breathe.

Kevin struggled, but they were swarming. Eager smiling faces pushing closer and closer towards him. Hands pulling at his clothes till they tore.

He swallowed.

His ears popped, but once the hands pulled back he could gasp for air.

He wasn’t given much time to find his bearings. Drugs making his thoughts fuzzy and slow, he felt more food get smeared across his lips, and swallowed quickly when fingers pinched his nose once more.

He wanted to beg. Wanted to ask for a break.

_ Too full. No more. Stop touching me. Just stop. Please. _

But they were pushing food on him too fast. He couldn’t chew properly anymore. Couldn’t swallow the sweet sugary treats without the help of eagerly passed lemonades.

That’s when the orgy began. Barely visible between the flood of brownies and ice cream, Kevin could see people stripping down and kissing. He couldn’t really see down far enough to watch what happened when the kissing couples dropped to the floor, but he could guess.

It was probably the drugs that stopped him from expecting hands on his own cock. He wasn’t hard, but whoever was tugging on him didn’t care much. Not that the entire milling group didn’t pitch in to help. Shouting out helpful tips as he choked around flaky puff pastry. 

_ No _ .

“Just too dry.”

“Twist your hand. Yeah, like that.”

_ No! _

“Here. Use this.”

There was the hiss of a can, and then – as he tried to chew a waffle dripping with maple syrup – cold wet cream on his cock next to the twisting hands. The fluffy cream melted with a few strokes, and God help him it felt better. He couldn’t fight anymore.

It only took them three brownies and another slice of cake to wring his first orgasm out of him. And by then he couldn’t swallow another bite. He was heaving.

Turning away from food wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t swallow any more either. He just couldn’t. Not even to make the pinching fingers go away from his nose.

Kevin didn’t know how long he was out. Just that he woke up in time to hear the angry moustache guy calm down the frantic crowd with zeal.

“We were prepared for this! We won’t be stopped! Not now!”

And then they brought forward a rubber tube. Way thicker than a thumb, wide enough to shove food through.

Kevin struggled. God damn he struggled. Struggled and cried and pulled at his wrists till the joints ached and throbbed. He clenched his jaw till his teeth ground together, but someone dug thumbs painfully into his cheeks till he tasted iron on top of all the sweetness, and he opened his mouth again. A ring got shoved between his teeth. The horrid thing - rubber that squeaked as it was forced in place - gave him to way to close his jaw from where it was stretched to the limit.

The gag didn’t satisfy them, more hands pushing at his head again. Holding it in place, and the muscles in his neck spasmed as he tried to find  _ some _ escape. The tube fit through the gag like a puzzle piece. Sliding terribly across his tongue and inexorably down. His throat swelling and pulsing as it was shoved deeper with happy shouting all around him. 

Kevin felt his body rebel against the intrusion. Gagging till his reflex seemed to just give up. Stomach heaving, he found he could just breathe through his nose. His throat burned. 

Tears were streaming down his sticky cheeks, but no one seemed to notice. Or they didn’t care. It didn’t matter, they  just pushed more food down the gag holding his mouth open. Straight down into his throat. Washed away with more sweet drinks he couldn’t even taste anymore, not unless they spilt some on him.

_ Fuck. No! No more. Can’t. Too full. _

“He’s not full enough.”

If he’d had any agency over speech or movement, Kevin would have sworn at the bitch who spoke. Not full enough? He was close to bursting and they were still shoving more food into the tube.

What if his stomach burst?

There just wasn’t any room inside him for more. All his energy pushed away by the food being forced in, he lay there and cried.

At most, he could whimper when someone pushed their way to the front of the crowd with urgency.

His ankles were loose for a few precious seconds, but he was too stoned to try and kick until it was too late. Rope passed around quickly, and for a crowd of high hippies they sure knew how to tie a knot.

Legs tied calf to thigh, surging, grabby hands held him open and back. The last remnants of his running outfit whisked away till he was more exposed than ever . The blankets were a mess, unequivocally stained by chocolate and fruit.

He couldn’t see who was still tugging on his cock, only knew that whoever it was had already wrung two orgasms out of him. Someone was doodling with his come, another dripping chocolate sauce onto his exposed ass, cock, and stomach.

When fingers – probably slick with chocolate sauce and then the maple syrup someone passed over his head – started pushing into his hole, Kevin shuddered and gave up. He wasn’t getting out of this. The Winchesters didn’t know where he was.  No one was looking for him.

His stomach was bulging out, and he could watch his heart beat against his constricting ribs; trying to make room it couldn’t find. He was dizzy with the drugs and the sugar. Time melting together in one long stream of too much stimulants.

_ Can’t believe I wanted to eat an entire cake as a kid. _

One finger became two, and then three. He did feel fuller. The fingers penetrating him in a whole new way and adding to the pressure in his stomach.

Kevin guessed that a cock would fill him up even more.

“He’s ready.”

There were plenty of couples going at it around the altar. No shortage of dicks. But no one was pulling out when the people stretching him called out. Instead, manic looking worshippers were picking up food again.

If he hadn’t already felt like throwing up, he’d have felt his stomach sink. They’d all but abandoned his still open mouth when nothing was going down it, but now they had a whole new hole to fill.

He felt his sanity waver, psyche near buckling under the new form of abuse he knew was coming when someone called out from the crowd; a woman he couldn’t see.  

“He needs to be cleaned!”

Kevin would have laughed. He was filthy. Streaked with crumbs, sauces, and come. He was never getting clean.

Time tilted sideways for a bit. Fuzzy fluff in his head keeping him safe until a second tube was pushed into his thoroughly fingered ass.

_ Ah. Cleaned. Sure. Yes. _

The chocolate milk was warm, and Kevin giggled weakly against his gag when the moustached guy from before held the glass jug up above his head like a priest would a crucifix.

_ God, I’m fucked … Stoned too. _

The blankets would be ruined even further once all that milk was gone. The gag might have let them push more food into him that he’d ever eat on his own, but gravity wasn’t about to suddenly stop working.

It didn’t seem like they cared when he ran empty again minutes later. Eager to fill him up again.

“Here. Give him this.”

Kevin could barely groan, but the bottle of expensive and old looking whiskey looked inviting. With all that was happening around, and to him, he wanted more numbing drugs. Too bad it wasn’t getting into his stomach.

When they stopped trying to keep milk inside of him for a second, and instead made attempts with shots of the strong alcohol, Kevin couldn’t mark them down for creativity. Didn’t kids do something like that with vodka and tampons? He was sure his mom had warned him about such college campus shenanigans at some point.

Kevin’s stomach lurched again, and he missed another couple of minutes.

They’d pulled his legs up higher, shoving pillows and empty cake platters under his lower back to tilt him higher up. It was putting more strain on his overstuffed stomach, but it was allowing them to shove whatever handfuls of food they could find up his ass.

Somehow, Kevin felt grateful that they’d chosen warm milk instead of chilled lemonade. The warmth was radiating into his own shocked body, and through it all he felt sleepy. Plus, it went well with the frosted cupcakes they were pushing into him.

The people who weren’t obsessing over his ass were busy having sex. Loud, and messy. 

Were they too stuffing food in places it shouldn’t go? Moving hurt, he couldn’t check.

_ Don’t really want to see anyway. _

Just more food. More sugar. At least the alcohol seemed to be working. The deep fuzzy feeling at the base of his spine and the centre of his brain now buzzing in his ears, fingers lax and tingling.

Just more sweets and sex. More orgasms that somehow got pulled from his wrecked body. More pushing and pushing till he felt as bloated as a balloon.

“He’s ready.”

_ Finally! _

Kevin let his eyes slip shut. The knife couldn’t come too soon.

The weirdos around him started up some sort of chant, and Kevin sighed. More waiting. More crap he couldn’t change. 

It sounded Nordic. Maybe old Norse?

Every so often, they switched over to enochian.

A weird mix of sounds that slid into a mantra quickly enough.

Still gagged, he couldn’t tell them they were making a mistake. Didn’t really want to warn them anyway. Whatever they summoned, chances were it was eating  _ them  _ as soon as it was finished with his corpse.

Where was the knife anyway? No one had brought anything more dangerous than a cake server, and unless they were very determined that wasn’t going to cut it.

Was live feedings the rage these days?

_ Maybe it’s a dragon, and I’m the princess. _

Chanting still in full swing, someone pulled the tube out of his throat. 

Eyes closed tight, Kevin jerked like a live wire, expecting a blade instead of a sticky hand. As stuffed as he was, it was a minor miracle he didn’t puke. So at least he wasn’t getting eaten while covered in barely digested frosting.

_ Got to take the positives where I can get them, I guess. Silver linings. _

The droning chanting went on and on. No way to tell if it was even legitimate. How long would they go on calling some unknown ancient God before they figured out they weren’t actually summoning anything?

Maybe if he tried to sleep? Or just pass out. Just kick back and check out for a bit. Wait for them to come down from their high and figure it out.

Maybe they’d let him go if he promised to stay quiet. Not that he would, of course.

The second he got far enough, he’d be calling the Winchesters. Didn’t matter that they’d be angry with him for leaving the safety of the bunker without telling them. It had just been a run. A stupid run.

But they’d kill the stupid sweet toothed lot of them, and he’d watch. Watch their stupid ecological faces as they tried to run and hide.

Drowsily, Kevin tried to lose himself in the fantasy of slowly shaving off the leader’s moustache. He was just getting ready to torch his stupid clothes piece by piece, when the air rustled behind him.

A noise he recognised.

He couldn’t tilt his head back far enough to look, but he knew an angel had just appeared near his head.

“Castiel?”

He’d tried - He’d tried praying to the angel, but he’d given up hope after the second tube.  Not that the name came out correctly; mumbled around sticky lips and a tired tongue.

“Ooooh. Sorry, kid. This is not the angel you were looking for.”

He was a prophet! Whoever this was – not Castiel, but he’d deal with anyone if it meant getting away from this – was here to save him right?

“Oh Mighty Loki!”

_ Loki _ ?

“Ancient trickster God of the North. We present you this offering, and ask only one small favour in return.”

They didn’t know what they’d summoned. A trickster God that listened to enochian calls and flew like an angel. He could try to turn this.

“P_ pease.”

He tugged at the restraints with the last of his strength, barely budging his swollen body. Willing his mouth to work.

“He_e.”

The angel leaned over his head, and golden eyes peered down at him from under swept back hair; pouty lips pulling back in a smile. The angel glanced back to his captors.

“What’s the favour?”

_ No!  _ He pulled at his wrists, tied back legs wriggling uselessly.

“O! P_ease. M’a ophet.”

‘Loki’ leaned forward, nuzzling under his left ear to lick at a trail of something sweet.

“And you look absolutely edible.”

Horrified, Kevin stared up at the angel. He’d never seen Castiel eat ... anything … did angels eat humans?

“Wha’s’hat?”

Fear was making his aching jaw and tongue work again; sort of. It’s amazing what a luminous blue tentacle gently ruffling your hair would do. The angel seemed mildly surprised to see him staring at the extra appendage.

“Grace, kido. Not many humans can actually see that.”

That seemed to spur moustache guy onward. He seemed to lose control over the volume as he shouted at the guy standing over Kevin.

“Only the best for you! Oh mighty God! Christianity tried to rob you of your followers, but we believe!”

Loki looked ever so slightly annoyed, but not enough that the angel’s grace to stopped exploring his tied form.  The first tendril was joined by a second and a third. They were warm and soft. Nudging at the sweets left all over his chest like long prehensile tongues minus the saliva.

“Sure. Look. Perfectly happy with the gift. Truly am.” Loki leaned forward. He couldn’t be Loki though. Norse gods weren’t the same as angels. He’d heard angel wings.

“Angel.”

He tried to talk. Mumbling towards the barn’s ceiling rather than the captivated audience still mid coitus on the floor around him. Kevin licked his lips, trying to get them clean enough to talk.

“Y’r not Loki. Heard wings.”

The nearest tentacle twitched, and slid in between his lips just like the tube had. Kevin tried to bite down, force it out, but it was stronger than it seemed.

“Quiet kid. Adults are talking.” Kevin started crying again, a second glowing tentacle reaching up to dab at the tears that were meandering through icing and melted chocolate. “What’s the favour?”

Moustache guy launched back into his earlier speech on ecologically grown food, but ‘Loki’ stopped him after a single sentence. It seemed that tricksters, or angels, had little patience for senseless blather.

“The favour?”

The guy looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a fish. Mouth gaping open as he tried to comprehend someone interrupting him; even a God. The dreadlocked lady pushed up from somewhere on the floor, her face as slick as Kevin’s; though probably less sweet.

“A plentiful harvest!”

The tentacles froze, and the god laughed.

“That’s it? You kidnapped a prophet and prepared him for me. Summoned me! For a harvest blessing?”

“Good business!” Another voice cried out. 

Kevin didn’t try to look.

“Easiest score in millennia.” The guy crowed. Smiling broadly, tentacles clicking open the cuffs without letting him up for a second. The angel threw his arms wide. “Done! Your harvests will be bountiful, and whatever you offer for purchase will sell.”

The crowd cheered, and the tentacles lifted him. Kevin sagged in their hold. Did he die now? Was he ready for that? The angel drew him close, kissing his cheek once it was in range, and Kevin flinched. Much quieter than before, Loki added.

“Not that they’ll sell much from prison. Someone saw them drag you into their van after you collapsed.”

The absurdity of it all, combined with the drugs still keeping him plenty high, made Kevin giggle. The sound got caught barely passed his larynx while his overstuffed body shuddered with the sudden onset of mirth.

He would be dead by the time anyone got here, no doubt. But even if there was no trace of his corpse, his disappearance and the plentiful supply of drugs alone would have them all locked up for a long time.

No one else heard their summoned God condemn them all. No one even noticed. They just accepted the supposed blessing and returned to their orgy.

Kevin could see them all better now, more upright in the tangle of the angel’s grace. The few people who bothered to look up from their partners probably saw him floating in mid-air. Suspended by nothing. A statement of Loki’s power.

He was still giggling weakly when one of the exploring tentacles dipped in between his cheeks. Kevin shivered, his kneejerk reaction to pull away barely noticeable with his legs still tied together. The angel licked at his face, tongue sneaking in next to the tentacle.

“So sweet.” Loki growled. “Truly the perfect offering.” Kevin let his eyes focus on the angel’s golden ones, trying to beg. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t form the words.

More of the tentacles materialised, reaching from around Loki’s back to help support him, turn him. His legs dangling uselessly where they were still tied together.

“No one’s bothered with sacrifices in ages.”

Fingers curled under his chin, as his body was turned this way and that. Exposed. On display. Assessed.

“None of them were quite this pretty either.”

A tentacle poked at his bloated stomach.

“Or this full.”

Madness or drugs, Kevin didn’t know what made him catalogue possible sources the bullshit farmers had used for the ceremony. Probably the internet. Bogus information piled on top of some random real facts. There had been no need to load him up with baked goods. 

Whoever was masquerading as the trickster God had received and accepted human sacrifices who hadn’t been stuffed like a pinata.  

That made him giggle again, the huffing sounds arrested once the exploring tentacle that had hung out near his ass prodded forcefully at the cupcake plug.

“They were quite creative with this, weren’t they?”

Kevin could feel his consciousness slipping away. The drugs and the alcohol finally tipping him over the edge, and he wanted to jump.

No way did he want to experience any more of this, embracing the darkness when it came.

He had no idea how he ended up on the altar again. Body somehow firmly planted on all fours, with ropes and restraints gone. Held in place with even more of the blue tentacles. They were warm and soft, and Kevin was glad they were so easily taking his weight. The one in his mouth was moving gently, caressing his tongue, and Kevin sucked on it instinctually.

“Hell yeah. That’s the stuff. Go with the flow, kid.”

Breathing shallowly – he couldn’t pull in a full breath anymore – Kevin tried to locate the sound of the angel’s voice. But his head was fuzzy, and when he tried to shake it he got too dizzy. The tentacles took more of his weight as he sagged into them. Kevin didn’t want to know what would happen if they dropped him. As full as he was, maybe he’d just pop like an overfilled water balloon. Kevin sucked at the tentacle again in gratitude, it seemed to like it.

No need to anger the thing.

He didn’t want to pop, after all. It sounded … unpleasant.

Lost in the logistics, the angel’s mouth burying itself between his cheeks was a surprise. Kevin yelled out around the tentacle still gently fucking his mouth. The slick slide of a tongue and several tentacles on their own wasn’t bad. The odd change in pressure inside his body as the plug was pushed even deeper was less pleasant.

“You’re just so full,” Loki groaned. Hands pulling at his cheeks to give his face and tentacles more space to move. There were more noises as the angel forced himself deeper.

“So fucking sweet.”

Kevin could feel tongue and wriggly tipped tendrils push deeper into him, heading straight for his prostate. And once enough sweets had been removed to reach it, the tentacles didn’t let up for a second.

He jerked in the gentle hold. Eyes rolling back as the assault continued, and just kept on going. The angel never even lifting from his feast. Moans and appreciative mumbling whispered right into him. The huffed breaths heating and cooling trails of sticky saliva left behind after the angel’s tongue.

He couldn’t concentrate. Not anymore. 

An orgasm ripped out of his body, and he made a noise that would have been a scream if his body had enough room left to voice it. The tentacles didn’t give him a second to even try and catch his breath. His squeal morphed into a shuddering whine. His cock wasn’t even trying to deflate, and Kevin was sure the angel was part of it. 

The second orgasm came too soon. Too quick. Too much.

Loki was loving it. Shoving tongue and part of his grace deeper without letting his over sensitive prostate go. The only thing holding him up were the tentacles, stabilizing him where he’d have fallen or moved.  

When yet another tentacle wrapped itself around his unnaturally hard dick Kevin was sure his heart would give out. There _ had  _ to be a limit on how much strain the human body could take. 

“Just one more.”

The angel crooned. And Kevin wasn’t sure if he meant another orgasm, or another tentacle. He didn’t want either. His balls were aching, and his ass was sore, stretched around the two swelling prehensile appendages and an exploring tongue. The tentacle in his mouth wouldn’t let him beg.

The third orgasm was just as bad as the first two. Pleasure ricocheting around his tired frame as he tried to react. His bloated stomach hanging low. He groaned, sucking weakly at the tentacle in his mouth in gratitude when his cock was finally released. Aftershocks making it twitch while it remained hard.

“Good boy.”

‘Loki’ resurfaced. Patting quivering cheeks and smoothing his palms across Kevin’s shivering skin. When did shock set in?

“Doing so well.” 

The tentacle turned with him, letting him look at the angel who held his life in his hands. The guy’s face was covered in various incarnations of sugar. Running a finger through the mess to lick it clean before offering a second finger to his sacrifice. Kevin tried to turn away. The food itself was bad enough, let alone when it had been in his ass.

Thankfully, Loki seemed to respect his choice to say no - to that bit at least - more than the morons still fucking all around him. Not that the angel was respecting personal boundaries now that he’d finished with his ass. The angel leaned in close, sucking at his fingers noisily.

“Oh no. I’m not finished with you quite yet.”

_ Mind reading, _ Kevin thought vaguely. He tried to muster some objection but he was too tired. And the pressing matter of ‘not finished’ pushed it out of the way. 

“Don’t worry,” Loki crooned. “I’m not done. Just taking a moment to appreciate the view.”

He wasn’t sure when the tears had stopped, but he started crying again. He just wanted it to end. Wanted it to be over. Couldn’t even really beg for it to stop with the grace curling around his tongue. 

There was no shame in crying. Not really. 

No one would blame him for cracking under an assault like this. But he still felt the creeping emotion flame up his cheeks, and he tried to duck away again. Tried to hide in the only way he could.

“Oh no.” Firm but gentle fingers curled under his chin and pulled it up. “You’re way too pretty to try and hide away like that. Let me see those big sparkly eyes.” 

The grace tugged at him. Light blue sparking in the corner of his eyes as it pulled his upper body higher. Fingers no longer giving the appearance of support, Kevin struggled. 

“Easy kido. No need to fight what you can’t change. Just relax.”

But he couldn’t. 

His head felt like a pillow had been forced into it, and without firm contact with the floor he was sure he’d tip over. Falling was bad. Worse now that he could just explode on contact. 

“Shh.”

The angel shushed him. Fingers gripping his arms tight, and that helped a bit. Loki climbed onto the altar with him, guiding Kevin’s hands to rest on his thighs as he knelt in front of his suspended dessert.

“Just hold on. I wouldn’t let you fall.”

It felt good to grip something. Even if it was his rapist’s leg. He wasn’t too high to not see where this was going.

Sure enough, the angel let go of his arms to unzip his tented jeans and extract his dick. Kevin tried to plead with his eyes. Gazing up, up, up, at the angel holding him in place, willing him to just let him go. Or to just end it.

“Not gonna kill you, kid.”

There was some relief there. He’d survive this. Maybe. 

“Now open wide.”

The tentacle that had been occupying his mouth slithered out with a slick sound, and Kevin was too tired to even try and close his mouth. He was already stuffed to the brim, how much worse could just one dick be?

Fingers digging into tough cloth, Kevin held on for the ride. Or was forced to.

He couldn’t pass out. Could’t choke or puke.

All he could do was stare up into golden eyes and desperately stop his teeth from reflexively biting down. Things were bad enough without making the angel angry. Not after he’d gone out of his way to make the complete violation of his being less terrible. Kevin was sure it was Loki’s grace that was keeping him from emptying out every last crumb stuffed into his stomach.

As badly as he wanted everything out, he didn’t want the cock pumping steadily in and out of his mouth to be covered in sick. The strings of sugar saturated saliva, tears, and snot were bad enough. 

Above him. Loki was having the time of his life. Crooning words of encouragement and compliments as he took his pleasure. Pleasure that was easy enough to see on his smig, smiling, hungry face. 

The tentacle once again poking at his exposed hole was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Angel magic or not, he wanted out. 

The drugged haze enveloped him. Letting his mind float away for a bit. Away from his battered body suspended like a hentai heroine. He’d take any oblivion; for as long as possible. Sank his fingers into the darkness till it wasn’t there anymore.

“Welcome back, little prophet.” 

Kevin moaned in fear at the gentle tone. Still Loki. Still bloated. Still hanging from cock and tentacle; two fingers pressed to the centre of his forehead.

“Didn’t want you to miss this part.”

Rage bubbled to the top of his emotions for a furious moment, before it was swamped by horror and bitter seed. The angel was coming. A hand in his hair controlled how deep the twitching dick went as it emptied itself onto his tongue and the back of his throat. 

Loki let the final spurt land on his lips; smearing it around his cheek with the wet rosy head while he groaned in satisfaction. 

“Everything's better with a bit of cream on top.”

Hysterical laughter filled the void rage had left behind. Kevin shook in the tentacle’s firm hold. Heaving stomach still refusing to just empty itself as he gurgled around come and leftover chocolate. This was  _ insane _ . 

Kidnapped by hippies. Stuffed like a christmas turkey. And then raped by an angel who made terrible jokes while he impersonated a Norse God. 

But it was over. He’d survived.

“Let me go.”

Silver linings again. Getting fucked had cleared his mouth a bit, and without a tentacle or a cock inside he could at least try to speak. Or whisper.

“Please.”

Loki crouched down in front of him, rubbing his sticky face in the ruined crook of Kevin’s neck.

“Hmmmmmnope.”

Kevin choked on the laughter that kept on coming, even as he tried to plead for mercy. Rhythm established, the manic tension had to push  _ something _ out.

“I,” Loki gestured grandly at himself, “am going to have my cake, and eat it. And you. My dear  _ sweet _ boy. Are my cake.”

One of the tentacles, maybe the same one from before, pushed into his dribbling mouth. Silencing any and all attempts at protest.

“I’m going to have you any way I want.”

Muted, Kevin was hoisted up into the air again. It didn’t matter how much sugar he’d ingested, he was running on fumes; or grace. ‘Loki’ seemed intent on keeping him awake and as active a participant as possible. Not that he could do much more than wait as the angel got comfortable in the pile of blankets; miraculously clean again.

Getting manoeuvred over the angel’s lap was a journey on its own. He fingered the two gentle blue tentacles that were wrapped around the tops of his arms to distract from the unwanted intrusion further down. He wasn’t facing the angel, but he didn’t want to stare at the writhing piles of bodies around him either, so tentacles it was.

It didn’t help much.

The slow press of the angel’s dick pushing up into his wreck of a hole was too visceral to block completely. Whatever the angel hadn’t managed to eat was being moved around again. Kevin could feel it shift. Pressure pulsing in and out, and all he wanted to do was bear down and get rid of every last moist crumb. 

Instead, precious air was pushed out of him in tiny huffing whimpers every time he felt the fake god’s dick push in, in, in. Forcing out some of the sweet mess still contained in his ass, smearing it over his thighs and balls like a bizarre art piece.

His panicking body was trying to close again, unaware of how futile it was. The angel set a brutal pace. Lifting Kevin up and slamming him back down using the tentacles that had wrapped all around him. Pushing just hard enough to make his stomach protest the external pressure without pushing everything out like he wanted.

It left Loki’s hands free to scratch through the sticky smears on his back. Dragging pinpoints of new sensation along his spine.

A smaller tendril reached around to run up and down his dick. Still hard. Still too sensitive. Another tentacle hefted his testicles, rolling them like baoding balls. But he couldn’t move away. 

Had to endure.

And keep enduring.

The angel came four more times before he finally stopped. Demanded Kevin join him in orgasm every single time. The last two barely produced a single drop of come, and his balls ached, but Loki fingered the beads of moisture like they were liquid gold. Changing positions so he could tongue at Kevin’s slit and dig for more.

Kevin decided it would never end. 

The angel could keep this up for ever. There was no escape.

“Oh I could.”

_ What? _

Kevin jerked from the semi dazed state he’d managed to roll into. Lying back with tentacles curled around his extended waist to keep him at a more convenient height, he could sort of ignore the now languid penetration in favour of staring at the dust motes flying around above him. He’d gotten better at ignoring the constant pressure of the tentacle in between his lips.

‘Loki’ was probably close to orgasm once more, because he took up stroking Kevin’s dick again. He didn’t try to squirm away. It didn’t work. It didn’t matter.

He’d come anyway. Pleasure forced through him whether he hated it or not.

“I could keep you with me forever.”

The angel leaned over him, blocking his view of the barn ceiling; gaze still just as hungry as when he’d first seen him.

“Can’t get enough of you.”

Horror spread through him anew. He’d thought it would never end, but more in a poetic way. Eternity compressed into one day. Not an actual eternity. 

“I’d keep you close.”

_ No! _

The renewed terror made him struggle again. Frantically trying to get away even as pleasure curled low in his gut; building. 

“Make you mine.”

He started crying again. Frustrated tears that slid into his hair or were picked up by inquisitive tendrils of grace.

“Keep you just like this. Sweet. Stuffed full of food and come.”

He had a tiny bit of wriggle room. Just a tad of leeway that he could squirm in and out of, but it did little more than fuck himself onto the angel’s cock; rock his own tired dick in and out of that slick fist.

“Covered in my come. And drunk on my grace.”

The drugs were still keeping him slow and even further out of control. What was grace doing to him?

“My own personal sacrifice.”

Kevin shouted weakly as he came. Orgasm painful but overwhelming. ‘Loki’ pumping his hips deep as he too found yet another release. 

“I could hold you for years.”

Coming down off the latest high, Kevin whimpered. Anything but that.  _ Please _ ! 

“Whisk you away right now. Right before the cops bust through that door.”

They were right there? Cops. Police. Help.

Kevin mumbled around the writhing tentacle in this mouth, and it pushed deeper once he managed to force sound around it.

“Make sure you’re never empty again.”

The tentacle pushed deep, and Kevin felt his heart swell and lurch along with his stomach. He had to get away. He couldn’t take another second of this, let alone years. He screamed; silent and broken.

The doors burst open, shouting police officers streaming in as they pointed guns at the hippies  _ still _ having sex around him. Reflexively, Kevin tried to reach for them. 

He didn’t expect to be able to move his hands but instead of tentacles no cop would be able to see, the padded manacles were back around his aching wrists and ankles. ‘Loki’ nowhere in sight. 

“Help me.”

He could speak. Good God he could speak.

“Help. Please help. Please.”

Frantic, he pleaded for help. The angel might have gone AWOL, but there was no telling for how long he’d stay away. Police started pulling up the dazed and drugged commune members; dragging them out of the barn. Two officers rushed to his side.

Twenty minutes later, he was on a brancard in the back of an ambulance on the way to the nearest hospital. Another five hours later everyone had finished poking and prodding him. 

Doctors had taken samples of everything, and examined every inch of his battered body. 

It had taken the staff another half hour of talking before he let them carefully push another tube down his throat to pump his stomach. The nurses calmly explaining why ‘just puking it out’ wouldn’t do him any good.

It had felt good to be empty again.

The enema was less daunting after he felt so much better. Exhausted, he just lay back and let the kind personnel take care of him. The water was warm again, and he was near sleep by the end of it all.

He’d even felt good enough to talk to the cops about what had happened. Kevin didn’t buy the stand in officer’s assurance that they’d find the man who’d raped him, and fled before the raid. If the angel’s vessel was in the system or not didn’t matter, no beat cop was arresting a supernatural creature that strong. His blood tests had confirmed they’d used several drugs on him, all of which had been found in abundance at the site. 

“They’re all going to be behind bars for a long time.”

“What were they even trying to do?” Another cop, standing back near the door to not crowd him interjected. “They could have had an orgy without kidnapping a total stranger.”

Kevin chuckled along weakly.

“They. Um. I didn’t really understand all of it. But they were trying to summon.” Kevin coughed, hoping they believed how ridiculous he found the idea. “Um. A God. Or something. To give them a better harvest. I was the sacrifice.”

The cops, constantly in communication with the ones back at the station, had heard some of the story so they didn’t react too much. But Kevin could see they were in agreeance on how utterly high their criminals must have been to have thought that that was a viable plan.

Night came quickly. And the officer outside his door gave Kevin just a bit of security. Not that he felt safe. 

He hadn't been able to paint any warding symbols anywhere without looking just as crazy as the hippies in the holding cells. And that left him way too open for another abduction. The angel’s words were still echoing in his head. 

Captured. Kept. Fed. Fucked. For ever.

Where would he even be kept? The angel had murmured about how good he’d look stretched out on silk sheets. So probably not a dump. 

“Oh sweetie.” Kevin near jumped out of his skin. Instantly scrambling towards the edge of the bed, halted by the tubes attached to his arm. “I would never keep you anywhere near a dump.”

He stepped right up to the bed, hand reaching out to hold Kevin’s upper arm.

“Only the finest for you, sugar.”

The angel’s grasp was strong, unrelenting. Kevin wasn’t sure why he didn’t even try screaming for help. 

Terror and horror made him mute as the latest shot of adrenaline let him wriggle like a fish on a line.

Caught.

_ No! _

“Time to go, kid.”

There wasn’t even time to think of a protest. One second he was twisted around in a semi-comfortable hospital bed, and the next he was sprawled on a dirt floor. So much for the finest. 

More mobile this time round - the tubes were blessedly gone - Kevin rolled away from his newest kidnapper the second his arm was released. It took a second to get his feet under him, but then he was up and running.

It was a stupid plan.  _ ‘Run’  _ Barely a plan to begin with.

The angel appeared a couple of feet ahead of him, and Kevin twisted and turned in another direction. Loki let him run around like that for a while. Herding him to and fro till he found himself cornered in a natural cul-de-sac. 

Stress clawing at his heart, Kevin collapsed. 

There was no escape. Just a mouse in between a cat’s paws.

The angel picked him up, cradling his sacrifice to his chest. Kevin turned his face into the man’s shirt, not wanting to see where he’d be taken next. 

There was no point in fighting. All it could earn him was a punishment,a dn he did not want to know how the sugar obsessed angel would treat him if he didn’t obey.

“You’d make such a perfect pet.”

The fabric under his face was wet with tears as Kevin sobbed. Rocked back and forth as the angel walked like a baby.

“Look up, sweetheart.”

They hadn’t teleported yet. The soothing earthy scent still carried on the cooler air. Sniffing, he raised his head to look at whatever Loki was pointing at.

The bunker.

The bunker!

The angel put him down, still holding Kevin in a tight hug that wouldn’t let him take a single step forward.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, my sweet little prophet.”

Lips found Kevin’s neck.

“A careful, close, eye.”

Hope bubbled to the top of Kevin’s consciousness. 

“Please. Please let me go.”

The flutter of air as the angel disappeared scared the living daylights out of him. Convinced he’d been taken along. But the bunker was still in front of him; strong and so real.

Crying the first tears of happiness in what seemed like ages, Kevin stumbled forward.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryugarika.tumblr.com/) ... feel free to, I can take it.
> 
> Comments feed me!


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